Of Family and Friends
by Elfpen
Summary: Bits and bobs of Halt-Will Father/Son mush, along with loads of other mushy-gushy, touchy-feely RA oneshots. RA fluff lovers rejoice.
1. To Have a Family

Title: Of Family and Friends

Author: Elfpen

Summary: Bits and bobs of Father!Halt and Son!Will, along with loads of other mushy-gushy, touchy-feely RA oneshots. RA fluff lovers rejoice.

A/N: I know, I KNOW. I should be working on 'Revenge' or one of my other WIPs right now… How I know. I've gotten writers block lately. I'm just hoping it'll end soon, for the sake of my sanity. This project is to keep me sane.

**To Have A Family**

It was graduation day at the Ranger Gathering. Two freshly-minted rangers stood overwhelmed by the celebratory cheers and lavishing praise of their parents. One blushed deeply as his mother unashamedly planted a sound kiss on his cheek, and the other smiled brightly as his little sister latched onto him in a tight embrace. In a tender way, one turned to his father with pride in his stance.

"Congratulations, son." The elder man said. The son smiled, glowing in the approval of his father.

"Thanks, dad." He said, voice cracking slightly with emotion. The two grasped forearms – not only as father and son, but man and man. The two maintained eye contact for some time, before a proud mother came through to fuss over her son once more.

Will watched from a distance. It was his first gathering since he'd graduated, and he found it a bit of a different experience watching the event from the other side. He studied the way the proud families interacted. Happiness reined overall, with undertones of immense pride and constant love. Siblings, fathers and mothers, all of them offering nothing but love and companionship.

Almost unconsciously, the slightest twinge of regret tinted his otherwise cheery smile. He hadn't had a family when he'd graduated. He'd never had a family to speak of. No father or mother; no brothers or sisters. Part of him, deep in his gut, ached longingly at the thought. He'd always wondered what it would be like. Since before he could remember, he'd tried to imagine what a family would be like – to have a proud father, a loving mother. He gazed at the picturesque families before him and felt the stale air in his lungs burn away, just waiting to form a sad sigh. So tantalizingly close, yet so impossibly out of reach.

"Treaty! What are you doing over here?" Gilan strode over, smiling wide enough for two people. "Come join the party!" He draped an arm around Will's shoulders.

Will remained silent for a moment, before asking: "What's it like, Gilan?" The question was quietly spoken and rather unexpected, with an underlying depth of meaning that Gilan didn't yet comprehend.

"What do you mean?" Gilan's face showed a touch of confusion, but his smile had barely faded.

"To have a family, I mean." Will explained.

Gilan's face immediately drooped into a sad frown. He looked over at Will.

The other ranger's features were not too sad or despairing, but supremely wistful. Will's eyes were alight with an imaginative kind of wonder – a wonder so innocent that it broke Gilan's heart. Sometimes, he forgot that Will was an orphan - someone who had never known a family or a typical childhood. Gilan felt a twinge of guilt. He had led a very blessed life as a child. His parents were happily and harmoniously married, his father was a very influential and well-off knight of Araluen, and they all loved each other very much. He'd taken it all for granted, he realized. Now, looking into the longingly curious eyes of the man who'd had become one of his closest friends, Gilan felt incredibly undeserving.

"Will, I… I'm not sure… I don't know what to say." He looked from Will's face to where the man was looking, at the young graduate rangers and their families. "I'm sorry." Gilan added, partially out of his own personal guilt.

"No, don't." Will insisted. "None of it's your fault, Gil, I just… Wondered, is all."

Gilan took a deep breath, studying the families. He had all of what they had and more – he always had. But the man beside him? He glanced sidelong at his companion and studied his expression. Will's features were riddled with emotions, prominently among them longing, wonder, and a deep sadness that reached back into years and years of loneliness. For a moment, Gilan was positive that he was not seeing Will Treaty the legendary ranger of Araluen. Rather, he was seeing Will, just Will, the young, confused, lonely orphan of the Redmont ward. Gilan didn't know much about Will's childhood, but he could almost visualize the mental turmoil that he must have experienced over his parent's fate.

Something hard and painful formed in Gilan's throat that prevented him from speaking. He looked from Will to the families and back, and he didn't know what to say. Then he looked back to the families and something caught his eye. But it wasn't something about the families themselves – it was something beyond them. Behind the foreground of loving relatives were the smiling, friendly faces of the other rangers, all sharing in each other's company, all smiling. Crowley was sharing a joke with another senior ranger, and the one of the former masters of the graduates was discreetly drying a tear from his eye.

Then Gilan's eyes lighted over the unsmiling figure of Halt. The other man was casting his gaze about in an almost concerned way, looking for someone among the crowd with what appeared to be little success. Gilan was willing to bet that he was looking for Will. He knew full well that Halt thought of Will as his own son. He held the thought, and turned back to Will.

Will's eyes were still glazed over in deep contemplation as he studied the families. Gilan looked between the two scenes again. Did Will even see Halt? Did he not see past the foreground? He was missing so much.

"Will," Gilan started sympathetically, replacing his arm around Will's shoulders. When the other man met his gaze, he continued. "Will, bloodlines and genealogies aside, you're not missing out on anything."

The other ranger looked at him oddly, not comprehending.

Gilan gestured widely to the party in front of them. "_This _is family, Will."

Will shrugged confusedly. "Gilan, I know that – but it's not exactly _my _family, is it?"

Gilan sighed and shook his head in denial. Will was still looking at the foreground. "No, not the graduates, Will. Look behind them."

"Gilan… I don't understand."

Gilan sighed softly, and drew breath to explain. "They have each other, Will." He said softly. "And they always will. They're family." He motioned to the graduates and their families, and Will nodded consent a bit sadly.

"But don't you think for a moment that you don't have that too, Will." Gilan's words made the other man look up. "Because behind those people is a man who loves you like his own son." He directed Will towards the lingering crowd and pointed out Halt. "_That _is family, Will. _That _is what it means to have a family. To have a father." He turned to look at Will, and watched silently for several moments as revelation slowly dawned.

"You may not have a biological family, Will." Gilan said quietly. "But you'll _always _have Halt, and he's more than enough family for anyone." He smiled broadly. He let the words sink in before adding, "And besides, you get me as a brother with the package deal – what could be bad about that?" He winked at the ranger mischievously, but sobered quickly. "You'll always have a family, Will." He said meaningfully. "It's us. And, just like a family, you're not getting it out of it anytime soon, so if you're sick of us already, that's just too bad. I don't think Halt intends on going anywhere anytime soon. And neither do I."

Will looked away from the distant figure of Halt and looked over at Gilan, his eyes conveying a deep sense of gratitude and brotherly love.

"Thanks, Gilan." He managed after a moment or two, his voice heavy with emotion.

Gilan grinned. "Of course. Now, go on over there with your family and enjoy the party – before Halt decides to rip apart the grounds to find you." He gave the man a slight push, and Will started off towards the bundle of people, looking back once at Gilan with a grateful smile.

Gilan stayed where he was to watch the rest of the scene play out.

Once he spotted Will, Halt's expression eased somewhat, and Gilan caught the miniscule glint in his eye. For any normal person, it would have been meaningless, but for Halt, it spoke volumes. The older man greeted his former apprentice, and murmured something that made Will break into a large smile. Gilan could have sworn that he saw Halt smirking, too. The tall ranger beamed.

He and Halt had never shared the kind of relationship that Will and Halt had forged over the years. But that was alright with Gilan. He understood the reasons behind it – he had come from a strong family, secure in his own need for companionship, approval and love. On the other hand, Will had had no family. When Halt came into the picture, the older ranger assumed the role of all the family that Will had never had. In a fitting way, Will was the bright spot in Halt's life that represented the closest thing to a son that he would ever have. Will needed Halt, and in fulfilling that need, Halt had adopted the boy as his own. From there, their relationship had grown stronger and closer until the role of father and son was almost as real as any biological blood relation. It did seem, however, that the two occasionally needed reminding of the fact.

Next to Halt, Will looked up at Gilan and smiled at him once more. Gilan smiled back. Oblivious to the interchange, Halt reached up and put a fond arm around Will's shoulders and spoke to him. Will nodded, looked up to Gilan, and pointed. Halt spotted the tall man and called over,

"Gilan! What are you skulking over there for? You always stir up trouble when you wander off. Come back over here."

Gilan nodded. "Coming, Halt!" He said, walking towards the other rangers, studying them as he went. Looking back and forth between his pair of friends and the celebrating families, Gilan was hard-pressed to spot any substantial differences. Their manner was different, it was true. Halt would hardly ever dote on Will the way a proud mother would, but the love behind the actions was the same. A father hugging a son proudly; Halt laying a strong hand on Will's shoulder. Underneath it all, it translated to the same thing – a deep, unconditional love. And that, Gilan knew, was the true meaning of family.

He smiled to himself. In a real way, Will wasn't really an orphan. Well, so long as Halt was around. But Halt would always be there for his son – after all, they were family.

A/N: Just so everyone knows, I was writing this while listening to 'Fronds Like These' from the 'Finding Nemo' soundtrack. Especially the bit from 0:50 onward. I found myself choking up on several occasions. Soft music + fluffy fanfic + sappy author = tear jerker.

Hope you liked it. Read an review, please.


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

**2**

**Practice Makes Perfect**

**

* * *

**

_TWENG! screeeeeeEEEAAACH!_

There was a time when he lived alone, in peace and quiet. That time had ended several years ago, but it was only now that Halt realized that not only was it gone, but it had been shot, killed, trampled on and burned without so much as a sentimental glance.

_Twa-greeeeTWANG-eeeeeeeeEEE…_

What he had done to deserve this, he wasn't sure. Silently, he began confessing his recent shortcomings in the hopes that the Divine would intervene to stop his present torment. Nothing came of it, and for some reason he could envision the Lord of creation laughing mirthfully at his situation. Halt clenched his teeth together and buried his nose into the very, _very _important report that had just come in from the capitol. He _was _going to read this report, dangflabbit, even if it was the last thing he'd ever do before he was convicted for the murder of his eighteen-year-old apprentice.

_Click…TWENGGG-frrring!_

Any observer to the small, seething ranger might have been surprised to find that Halt's gaze did not, in fact, burn holes through the paper he was holding, though the intensive hatred of his glare might cause one to initially formulate a very contrary hypothesis.

Oblivious to the fact that he was doing so, Halt's fingers closed over the edges of the paper in a vice-grip, mutilating the benign object beyond any hope of repair. A tear appeared at one side, but the ranger didn't notice it until it ripped through Crowley's neat handwriting like a knife through butter. Resisting the urge to rip the entire article in half out of his frustration, Halt threw the now crinkled paper aside, crossed his arms, and huffily sunk back into his armchair.

A few moments of stillness pervaded his home, and the wonderful sound of ringing silence filled his ears. However, Halt knew it was only the calm before the storm. He idly wondered if he could count to ten before chaos struck again, so he tried. _One, two, three, four, _His hopes unconsciously began to rise. Was it finally over? _Five, six, seven –_

_Twing, twangggg…TWONG!_

This time, Halt couldn't hold back the biting growl of annoyance as he uncrossed his arms and planted them over his ears. He slouched further into his preferred chair, mumbling curses against his apprentice. Why? Why had he let him do it? Why couldn't he have just said 'no'? Curse Will and his persuasive charm, and those puppy brown eyes, and Halt's unspeakably embarrassing soft spot for the boy. Halt tried to remind himself how much Will meant to him, how much he cared for the boy – but all the same, his mind had already formulated about a dozen or so ways to get away with multiple degrees of torture and subsequent murder.

_Thrick! EEEEEeeee… TWANG TWENG TIIIIGGNNNNG!_

And that was the final straw. With uncharacteristic drama and volume, Halt leapt from his seat and marched over to Will's bedroom, pounding the door with a clenched fist.

"Will! So help me, if you so much as _touch _that lute _one more time…_"

"Halt, it's not a lute! It's a mandola! A lute has twelve strings tuned in pairs to the fourth, whereas a mandola has eight strings tuned in pairs to the fifth, and-"

"_I don't care! Stop playing!"_

"Halt, I was just-"

" 'Cruel and unusual punishment' will not even _begin _to cover it, Will!"

Footsteps sounded from the other side of the door, and Will opened it to look at his teacher with a firm, only slightly offended expression.

"_You're _the one who let me buy it, Halt." Will said.

It was said with just enough defiance to push Halt's buttons, but not enough to give Halt any viable grounds to leap on Will's 'teenaged rebellion'. Truth was, Will was hardly rebellious at all, but as he grew from the stage of boy into man, he was beginning to fear Halt's wrath less and less. Of course he would always seek Halt's respect and approval, but the portrayed wrath that he had once feared as a younger teen was now viewed as something closer to a challenge – a challenge that he was more than ready to rise to.

"Well when I gave you the money to buy it, I didn't think you'd be causing such a racket with it." Halt retorted, gritting his teeth. Will just looked him back, eye to eye.

That was another thing that Halt had noticed. He distinctly remembered looking _down _at Will when he first apprenticed the repressible young lad, but nowadays, he could look straight across at eye level to meet his apprentice's gaze. He would never voice the thought, but Halt feared that maybe one day, Will might be the one looking down to _him. _He tried to repress the notion. _If I have to suffer from lack of height, so should he. _Halt thought.

"Well of course it's racket _now. _You haven't even given me time to practice! A bit hypocritical for the man who taught me that _'practice, practice, practice' _was the key to success, don't you think?"

Halt glared harder at his apprentice. Will had a natural wit about him, and he'd been honing and sharpening his razor-sharp tongue for years – not only was he using his mentor's own assertions against him, but he was doing it with confidence and an infuriating ease. Halt tried extremely hard to forget the fact that _he _had been the one who had taught Will to use that particular tactic. Nevertheless, Halt was still the master here. It was about time Will was reminded of the fact.

"Practice, indeed, is the key to success, but it might not be so wise to practice in direct defiance of the man who can, if he so wishes, throw you out of the house, deny you food, and make you _practice _for hours on end – in the archery field."

Will felt the shift in the status quo, and the light in his eyes dimmed to a chastened look, and he eventually had to glance down at his boots away from Halt's gaze. Halt appraised him sagely. At least he knew when to give up.

His defiant mask gone, Will now looked up at Halt with a more sensitive look. "It wasn't _that _bad, was it?"

Halt thought it better not to speak, and instead just kept a steady gaze on his apprentice.

Will read the look and winced. "It was?" He asked. After garnering a silent affirmative from Halt, Will sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, murmuring to himself. "Sorry Halt…" He managed.

Halt tried to bite back the sympathy he felt bubbling up inside him. He was aggravated. He didn't care for Will's attempts at 'music'. He didn't. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel soft towards the boy. Will cared about learning to play the lute – er, mandola, and so Halt couldn't help but care just a tiny bit, too. He sighed inwardly. Curse his sentimentality. Not for the first time, Halt sourly considered the thought that he was going soft in his old age.

"Well, if you must insist on getting better at it – if you can – then I suggest practicing." Halt said begrudgingly. Will looked up, confused, but before he could point out his teacher's contradictory reasoning, Halt added, "Just do so when I'm _not _in the house. Or within any range of hearing."

Halt had said it with a pronounced annoyed air and just a touch of sarcasm, but Will read through it to the consideration within. He managed a small smile.

"Alright. Sorry, Halt." He moved back into his room to put away his wooden instrument. Halt nodded, and shuffled back to his chair to finish his reports.

"Halt?" Will popped his head around the doorway.

"Hmm?" Halt glanced over at him.

"Do you think I'll get better with practice?"

Halt thought for a moment. "Well, I don't know." He directed at the young man, "Will you?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, before Will nodded once, settled into a determined kind of look, and turned back into his room. Halt shifted to face his paperwork and let out a heavy sigh.

For the sake of his own sanity, he hoped so.

* * *

_Three years later…_

Halt stood alone outside the small cabin, the crescent moon and stars shining brightly down from the dark blue backdrop to illuminate the landscape dully in cool light. In the midst of a the calm night, a warm flickering yellow light flooded out of the windows of the forest home, illuminating the face of the ranger who had thought he'd been coming home to find a quiet, darkened house and a sleeping apprentice. This was not the case. Instead of quiet, there was something else to be heard coming from the cabin – music.

The cheerful little ditty jumped merrily and melodically from the instrument being played inside the cabin. The player sung along with it, and Halt immediately recognized the sweet tenor as Will. Another voice, this one higher and more feminine than the first, could be heard intermittently singing and laughing along with the song. Halt recognized it as Alyss, Will's longtime friend and as of late, romantic interest.

Halt wordlessly and silently unsaddled and rubbed down Abelard, listening to the music as he did so. Music had never been a subject of tremendous interest for him, and it made him a bit uncomfortable when Will would pull out his lute (mandola) for no apparent reason and begin to play and practice in his presence. Nevertheless, to say that Halt didn't enjoy music was to say that he wasn't human. In all truth, he liked listening to his apprentice play and sing; the boy had real talent, he had to admit. Whether he would ever tell him that or not was a different story. _No use blowing up the boy's head bigger than it already is, _Halt thought, and smirked when he considered the way Alyss readily praised his singing. _Especially with his own adoring fan. Definitely doesn't need anymore flattery than that. _

As Will ended the song and began the introduction to a new one, Halt went around the cabin and sunk down against the cabin wall, just below the window. He was low enough so that neither Will nor Alyss would hear or see him, but close enough that he could listen to the lighthearted music.

As he closed his eyes and relaxed to the sound, Halt recalled when Will had first begun learning the instrument and his home had been filled with a sound akin to that of a man running a sharp stick down a rack of mal-strung bows. Remembering Alyss, Halt snorted lightly at the thought of what she might have said _then, _when Will wasn't quite the virtuoso that he was now. Thankfully, since that decisive confrontation years ago, Will had practiced in solitude and with a willing tutor from the castle. And thankfully, he had improved a great deal with that practice.

Halt settled back against the wall of the cabin and folded his arms comfortably, content to sit and listen as long as Will played. Practice indeed was the key to sweet success - it was good that Will had worked and practiced according to the principle. Halt nodded to himself at thought, and had to fight to keep the proud smile off his face. _I taught him that. _

_~fin~_


	3. Preoccupied

**3**

**Preoccupied**

**

* * *

**

A/N: A short little romantic ficlet. I'm not a romance author, but this idea popped into my head and I wrote it. So sue me. Enjoy.

* * *

Edwina smiled as she walked up to the small cabin, the steaming pot wobbling slightly, but not spilling, in her strong hands. It had been several months since she'd last seen the fresh-faced young ranger of Seacliff, but she'd caught wind that he'd just returned to town earlier in the afternoon, and so she'd whipped up a savory stew for a warm welcome home. Carefully, she set the pot down on a small wooden table on the small cabin veranda. She raised her hand to knock at the door, but before she could, it opened in front of her, revealing the surprised features of one Will Treaty.

"Ranger Will!"

"Edwina? What are you doing here?" He asked. He sounded hurried as he finagled his quiver and bow onto his back.

"Well, I heard you were back in town, so I thought I'd drop by and…" She vaguely gestured to the pot of stew a few feet away, but her worried gaze was on Will as he walked past her. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes." Will said, now fiddling with Tug's tack. He whistled, and the shaggy little pony came around to the front of the cabin, tossing his head in greeting to his master and the rather confused innkeeper. "I've gotten a letter – Redmont… Can't wait. Be gone for a few days." He rambled. He bridled Tug, tightened the saddle girth, and mounted up.

"But Will, didn't you just-"

"I have to go!" And with that, the young ranger was off.

Edwina stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. But, after a while, she simply shrugged. Will was a ranger. Long ago she had learned that rangers were a quirky group, and so it shouldn't have been all too surprising that Will, having only been home for a few hours, was already taking off again.

Edwina looked over at her pot of stew. Well, she couldn 't very well just leave it there to go to waste. Looked like the guests at the inn would have a hearty dinner that night. She picked the pot up determinedly and set right on back to the inn. Whatever that ranger was doing, it must have been important.

* * *

Alyss carefully set the now-clean dishes in neat stacks in their respective cupboards. With a content sigh, she strolled back into her living quarters and seated herself gracefully down on one of the lounge chairs. The midday sun shone brightly through the curtains, giving perfect light for her to read her reports by. Her home was rather quiet these days; after Pauline had moved out, she'd had the small apartment to herself. She was happy to gain such independence, but at the same time, it became lonely at times.

She looked over the report she was composing for the events in Macindaw, and she couldn't help but grow a little distracted. For the past several weeks, she had been having dreams of that night, when she'd nearly killed Will, and Will had said… Something. Even the thought of it made her just a touch giddy on the inside. It was an overly feminine emotion for a straight-faced diplomat, perhaps, but Alyss indulged it anyway. In her dreams, which she couldn't quite tell if they were dreams or memories, Will had told her that he loved her. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the dream – or memory.

"_I love you, Alyss. I always have."_

In all honesty, she didn't know what to think about it. Well, that wasn't completely true. She knew what she _wanted _to think about it, but she wasn't entirely sure what she _should _think about it. After all, she didn't know if it was, in fact, a memory, or just a fanciful creation of her mind. After much convincing by Horace, she'd finally told Will of the dream via letter, and had asked him about it, but he hadn't yet responded. She looked forward to and yet dreaded his reply at the same time. What would he say? What would he think? She'd confessed her love for him, but would he return her feelings? When would his response letter come?

Alyss sighed to herself and tried to force herself not to think about it. Time would tell. Until then, all she could do was-

A knock sounded on her front door. She rose and went to answer it. When she did, her breath hitched suddenly in her throat.

"Will? Will… What are you doing he-"

"Alyss," Will took both of her hands. He looked as though he'd ridden through the night just to get to Redmont. "Please, I- I got your letter." He said.

"You did?" She asked. Her gut hardened uncomfortably. She felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable and self-conscious. She swallowed hard. "And?"

"And… Well," Will looked down at her hands in his, mustered his courage, and looked straight into her eyes. "That wasn't a dream, Alyss." He gave her an endearing smile, the same smile she'd grown to love since before she could remember. "I love you, Alyss. I always have."

Alyss, for however straight-faced, composed, and unshakable she normally was, looked so shocked and completely overwhelmed that, for a moment, Will wondered if he'd said something wrong. But thankfully, all doubts were tossed to the wind when she placed both hands on either side of his face and, without the slightest bit of shame, kissed him.

* * *

"Halt and I will be traveling to Whitby next week to deliver the documents – I assume Nigel is nearly done drawing them up?"

"Yes, he told me just this morning that he's having his apprentices handle the fine tuning, and it should be done within a few days."

"Alight. Thank you, my Lord."

"Of course, Lady Pauline. A good day to you."

"And you."

Lady Pauline left the Baron's office and started down the stairs of the castle keep. As she wound her way back to the apartment that she and Halt shared, she spotted something in the courtyard that puzzled her. At first glance, it looked like Abelard. But as she got closer, she noticed that the horse's coat was a slightly different shade, and just a bit shorter in the leg. Add to that the fact that he was standing in the courtyard, not the stables, and it became clear that this was not her husband's horse.

"Tug, what on earth are you doing here?" Pauline asked the small horse. Having spent most of her life around rangers, she was used to the almost human personalities of their horses, and had become very fond of them.

She spotted Will's mandola case and a small pack of belongings strapped to Tug's saddle, so it was reasonable to assume that Will had traveled there, but… Why?

Her brow creasing only slightly, Lady Pauline changed her route and walked towards Alyss' apartment. If Halt hadn't heard, and she herself hadn't heard that Will was coming to Redmont, the only other person likely to have known was Alyss. As she approached the door to her former apprentice's chambers, she spotted the door hanging ajar. It wasn't too surprising. The spring had been strangely warm, and many of the doors within the castle walls had been hanging open recently, to let in the cooling breeze.

"Alyss," She asked as she approached. "Did you know that Will Treaty is-" But she stopped as she came upon the door fully and could see into the apartment. Her elegant eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. _Well, I suppose she __**does **__know that Will is here. _Thankfully, they were so wrapped up in kissing each other that they didn't notice Pauline and she was spared the embarrassment of interrupting. Trying desperately not to smile _too _widely, Pauline edged away and headed back to her own apartment.

* * *

"Halt," Pauline said casually as she walked back into their home, "Did you know that your apprentice is here in Redmont?"

Halt frowned and looked up from the stack of oakleaf-sealed documents. "What? Which one?"

"Will."

Halt squinted. "Why? Doesn't he have a fief to look after? I thought he just went back to that neglected island post of his…"

"I'm not sure why he's back. He was with Alyss when I saw him."

"You saw him, but you didn't ask him why he was here?"

"No."

Halt put down his reports and turned around to face his wife, his expression begging the obvious question.

"Well," Pauline said serenely, "They both seemed a little… Preoccupied when I saw them." There must have been something in the way she said it, or perhaps it was the look in her eye, but either way, the message got across.

"I see." Halt said, turning back around. He shook his head. "Well, it's about bloody time." Despite his grumpy tone, Halt couldn't quite wipe the smile off his face.

Pauline mimicked the movement. "Indeed."

* * *

After a few moments, Alyss pulled away. "You do know that Lady Pauline was just standing outside my doorway," She whispered to Will.

"What?" He pulled back, his cheeks already flushing with embarrassment. "But, what, she – we-"

"Will, it's not like she'll kill you or anything."

"No… But she'll tell Halt, and he'll… Oh, I'll never live this down."

Alyss laughed. "Well, if you stick with me, you won't have to." She gave him a peck. "Now come on. I'm sure your dear old master is just dying to see you, and if you don't go to him, he'll come here."

"And tease me into eternity." Will groaned.

"Well, for all the teasing you'll get for it… I'm glad you came back, Will." Alyss told him sincerely.

He smiled over at her and took her hand, but said nothing. They started walking towards their mentors' quarters in no hurry, shutting the door behind them as they went.

"And Will?" Alyss stopped after a while of walking. Will stopped with her.

"Hmm?"

She smiled at him. "I love you, Will."

As he looked back at her, a whole series of events played back in Will's mind - a lifetime of memories with Alyss by his side, from toddlers to children to teenagers, to where they were now as adults. Now, he had over twenty years of friendship, experience, and companionship to justify what he was about to say.

"I love you, too, Alyss."

They were about to kiss again. In two seconds, it would be the most perfectly perfect, romantic scene, straight from a storybook, Alyss thought.

"Do you have to do that _now?_" A slightly Hibernian, very aggravated voice called from the lighted doorway a few feet away, "Or are you going to come in here and explain why on earth you abandoned your fief again?

The two jumped away from each other, surprised, and Alyss almost giggled at the astonishing color of red on Will's cheeks. He sent her a look. _It's started. _She bit back a smile and sent him what she hoped was a pitying look.

Will cleared his throat. "Yes, Halt. Of course." He shuffled awkwardly past Alyss and Halt into the apartment, avoiding eye contact with his former master. Once he was done watching Will suffer his scrutiny, Halt turned his gaze toward Alyss, and without changing his face hardly at all, winked.

Alyss couldn't help but smile, and blushed only slightly as she filed into Halt's apartment after Will. The two of them took seats on one of the living room couches, speaking in hushed voices. Halt shook his head fondly as he watched them, muttering to himself.

"About time indeed."

* * *

*hides in embarrassment*

A/N: Thus ends the most horribly written ficlet you're likely to come by. Sorry… Romance really isn't my thing. I can't even believe I stuck a kiss in there. I'm just not one for the genre. Nevertheless, I hope you somehow enjoyed it. If you did, drop me a review. I'll be ever so grateful.


	4. Day Number Two Hundred and Twenty Five

**4**

**Day Number Two Hundred and Twenty-Five**

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A/N: This idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. Enjoy.

* * *

"I'm not an invalid! Go away!"

"But Cassandra, I just-"

"So help me, I will order Crowley to drag your carcass behind his horse all the way to the northern border if you do not _leave me alone!"_

"Really, Cassie,"

"Don't you 'Cassie' me!"

"Would you stop yelling? People are bound to hear you…"

"Good. _Crowley! Help! Bring your bow with you!"_

"_Cassandra!"_

"_You're _the one who started it!"

"Started what? But – Why are you even mad at me, anyway?"

"UGH! Men! You are so oblivious!"

"But I didn't even-"

"LEAVE!"

The door slammed behind her as she retreated to their bedroom. Horace stood there, trying to figure out what had just happened. He blinked, and took a step forward to open the door, but found that it had been locked from the inside. He let out a small noise of astonishment. He stepped back and sighed, feeling like he'd been cheated. He'd been yelled at, threatened, insulted, and locked out of his own living quarters. And what had he done to deserve such treatment? He didn't have the slightest idea. For pete's sake, all he had done was ask her if she was feeling alright! He huffed at his own misfortune and sank down against the wall to the floor. He sat there quietly for several minutes, glancing around a few times for some form of help, but found none, and so he simply stayed where he was.

It was a few minutes more before footsteps sounded down the hall. Shortly following, King Duncan rounded the corner into the small sitting room, his brow wrought with concern.

"What on earth was that racket?" He asked, glancing around. He made a double-take at Horace and frowned deeper. "And why on earth are you sitting there on the floor?"

Horace shrugged helplessly. "She locked the door on me."

"Who, Cassandra?"

Horace nodded confirmation.

"Why on earth did she do that?"

"She's mad at me."

"What did you do?"

Horace scoffed in an exasperated tone. "Well I don't very well know - I swear she's been making less and less sense as each day goes on! For goodness sakes, all I did was ask her a simple question and-"

A loud sniffle interrupted him. Both men's' heads swung to look over at the door, which cracked open to reveal the tear-smeared face of Cassandra. She walked miserably out of the room.

"Horace…" She said in a small, pitiful voice. "I'm sorry, so sorry! I don't know what got into me… Oh," _*sniff!* _"I just… Oh, I don't know!" As she was talking, she shuffled over to where Horace was sitting on the floor and plopped down into his lap, hugging his neck and burying her face into his chest.

Horace, completely taken aback, watched her with utter surprise as she sobbed dramatically into his tunic. What had gotten into her? He gently patted her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, not really knowing what else to do. He looked confusedly at the king over Cassandra's shoulder.

'_What's gotten into her?' _He mouthed.

Duncan shrugged at him.

"Horace," Cassandra whined unexpectedly, bringing her head up to look at him, "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"W-What?" Horace asked. He looked at her, surprised once again by her sudden change of mind. "Of course, Cassie," He said, making a point to keep his voice gentle. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but it wouldn't do to send her off into another fit. "I think you're beautiful."

She seemed satisfied with the answer when she quieted, but after a moment of staring miserably out into the distance with her bottom lip pouted out, she sniffed a few times before breaking into sobs once more. "Oh, no I'm not! You're just saying that! Ugh, I'm getting old! Old and ugly! How can you love me?" She buried her face despairingly into his shirt once more.

Horace looked even more confused than he had been earlier. By the _stars, _what in the world was she talking about? She'd gone completely mental, he was convinced. With a quick glance, he silently relayed his sentiments with the king.

Duncan, for his part, studiously ignored Horace's pleading look, and instead glanced down at his crumpled daughter. From the way she was sitting folded in Horace's lap, her loose-fitting dress pulled around her middle snuggly to reveal her very prominent pregnant belly. The king was determined to keep a straight face. He thought he understood the cause of the situation - becoming a mother did the strangest things to women. He, for one, had received quite enough wrath from such a woman right before Cassandra was born. For however pathetically helpless or pitiful Horace may have looked, Duncan was under no inclination to involve himself in the situation further.

_She's your wife, _his look told Horace, _you figure it out. _With that, he quickly fled the scene, abandoning a panicking Horace to his own devices with a hysterical, pregnant Cassandra in his arms. Duncan sighed a sigh of relief once he was out of the room. He may be the king of an entire country, but attempting to rationalize the emotions of a female mind was a daunting, terrifying task. He shook himself. Horace had gotten himself into this mess, he could find a way out.

As he had the thought, Crowley came walking briskly down the hallway.

"Ah, your majesty – someone told me that your daughter was asking for me?" He said curiously, his forehead set in slightly confused lines.

Duncan shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Crowley. It was a misunderstanding. She's just-"

A loud, fleshy smacking sound came from the room down the hall.

"Ow! What the- What was that for?"

"What is wrong with you? You are so useless!"

"Useless? But I didn't _do _anything!"

"_Exactly!_"

Crowley glanced around Duncan towards the voices. "What on earth are they arguing about?"

"Just… Oh, just go! Leave!"

"Cassandra, I just-"

"LEAVE!"

"But I-"

_SLAM!_

Duncan shook his head at his longtime friend. "Well… Let's just say that I think Horace will be happy once these nine months are over."

Realization dawned. Crowley glanced at the king. "Do you think we should help?"

"No, I think it's better if we just keep our distance and let the man figure it out for himself."

"I see. Sounds like a wise plan of action – or inaction, as the case may be."

"Indeed."

As the Ranger Commandant and the king made their swift escape, Duncan thought he could hear Horace banging his head frustratedly against the wall.

Two hundred and twenty-five days down, forty-nine to go.


	5. For the Love of Pies

**5.**

**For the Love of Pies**

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A/N: Based off of a conversation between Halt and Horace in book 9. Just a shot of mushy humor. Enjoy.

* * *

It was a widely known fact that rangers were very strange folk. Their overall reclusiveness and secrecy, for one, was the root cause for all sorts of superstition, along with endless and outlandish accusations of sorcery, black magic, wizardry, and a long list of supernatural associations. Their distinctive camouflage cloaks also tended to stir up gossip. Their massive longbows were known throughout the kingdom, and even the thought of their deadly accuracy was enough to send a chill up the spine of practically anyone.

Those who knew rangers personally would tell tales of more mundane, but nonetheless puzzling habits. At the top of the list was their undeniably strong addiction to coffee. Even the oldest rangers weren't exactly sure who or what had started the craze, but even so, all rangers entering the corps since that unrecorded fateful day had dutifully addicted to themselves to the drink, honey or no. Rangers also tended to be of the disposition for prank-pulling and general mischievousness. This came as no surprise to the rangers themselves – after all, a ranger wouldn't be any kind of a decent ranger without a sneaky, conniving reputation. Another noticeable trait among rangers was their propensity for sayings and mantras. Some were widely known as 'old ranger sayings', but some were seemingly simple phrases – except for the fact that every ranger in the corps could quote them by heart, and usually in unison with one or more of his brethren. Many believed that somewhere deep in the commandant's pockets, there was a book containing every 'ranger saying' recorded on paper.

However, amongst the myriad of traditions and staples of the ranger persona, there was one trait that very few outside of the corps knew about: whether they would admit it or not, nearly all rangers had a particularly strong fondness for sweets.

Halt was no exception.

Unfortunately for Halt, a ranger's wages were hardly substantial enough to afford an indulgence in pasties and candies. He often lamented this fact, sourly considering that he was one of the highest ranking officers in the kingdom, but even so, couldn't even afford a butter cream cake on a semi-regular basis. He had once considered asking the King for more substantial allowance, but after imagining how King Duncan might respond to Halt's reasoning behind such need for a raise in wages, he had quickly shaken the thought away. Unfortunately, he still couldn't quite dispel the mental image of Duncan falling from his throne with laughter.

Of course, there was always the option of making homemade sweets. After all, Halt was a rather good cook – his stew was famous among the ranks of the corps for its rich, delicious flavor. However, after his first few attempts, Halt had quickly discovered that stews and pastries were infinitely different. Whereas stews could be made from scratch without too much hubbub, cakes and tarts required a scientific approach of exact measurements and careful timing. Halt had neither the time, money or patience for such endeavors, and so abandoned the idea.

Having exploited all of the obvious options for naught, Halt was pressed to invent more creative ways to satisfy his sugar craving, and being the intelligent type of person, had the sense to play heavily to his strengths. He was a ranger: a master of stealth, an expert strategist and an unseen advisory – a victor of a dozen battles and mastermind of a thousand schemes. Drawing on these strengths, Halt had decided that he was more than capable of sneaking into the castle kitchens.

He scratched at his beard beneath the cowl of his cloak as he considered his mission. The goal: The deliciously aromatic blueberry pie cooling in the windowsill. The challenge: The kitchens were on the third story, with a half-dozen guards in and around the area along with normal castle traffic, and undoubtedly, the kitchen master Chubb would be patrolling his dominion relentlessly with his wooden laden drawn at the ready. The solution: …Halt scratched at his beard again in thought, and then sniffed uninterestedly. Well, the solution was simple enough: He was Halt.

Pushing himself off the tree he had been leaning against, Halt shrugged his cloak comfortably around him, took a few casual steps and disappeared into the long evening shadows.

* * *

It had been easy enough to sneak past the guards and the few passers-by that had been lingering around the kitchens before dinner. Chubb had been suitably distracted over the night's preparations for dinner, his ladle occupied with whacking clumsy apprentices upside their heads. In fact, the entire kitchen staff was quite distracted, so no one noticed when the green and grey clad ranger slipped past the main kitchens and into the abandoned supply pantry. It was a nice enough hide-out. It was dark and small, but not cramped inside, and Halt even found a small loaf of crusty bread to munch on while he waited. Amidst the clamor of dinner preparations, he could still smell the enticing aroma of warm, succulently sweet blueberry pie.

* * *

Once Chubb's apprentices had ushered out the last tray of food, Halt had deemed it safe to leave his dark hiding place and claim his prize. Silent as a cat, the ranger crossed the room stealthily to the windowsill, and was about to move out of his cover to take the small blueberry pie, but stopped suddenly in surprise as a small, deft hand shot up out from a dark corner and snatched up the very pie that Halt had selected. Careful not to move, Halt's eyes darted over to the darkened patch by the window where the hand had retreated. Vaguely, he could hear its owner munching on the crispy crust of the delicious pastry. After the initial surprise, Halt felt undeniably aggravated that someone else – whoever this faceless pie-snatcher was – had taken his pie. Several cherry and apple pies remained, but he had had his heart set on blueberry. Now, after all his work, a petty thief had ruined his plans. He resisted the urge to glare at the shadow by the window.

He heard footsteps approaching. He quickly and silently moved into a dark patch on the opposite side of the window from the pie-snatcher. He wondered if _he _wasn't the petty thief in the situation, but threw out the thought and concentrated on the formless thief across from him. Master Chubb entered the kitchens, but left quickly after grabbing a few dishes. Halt squinted, trying to make out the form of the thief. Thankfully, he didn't have to try too hard, because after a moment, the thief emerged.

A boy. A small boy, at that. His features were dominated by the unruly brown locks that fell around his face in all directions, shading large, dark eyes in shadow. Crouched low with his fingertips on the ground like some sort of animal, the boy quietly snuck out of the shadows. He looked to be around eleven years old, but for some reason, Halt got the feeling that he'd done this before. The boy twisted his head this way and that, searching for any sign of Chubb or his ladle. After perceiving no threat (his eyes passed over Halt several times without spotting him) he slunk over once again to the windowsill and had just touched the top of an apple pie when the door squeaked open. He pivoted quickly around on the balls of his feet, his eyes wide with fear. Quickly, with only a moment's hesitation, he did something that Halt never expected: He stood up, grabbed the outside ledge of the window, vaulted up and over the pies and out of the window in a matter of seconds – just before Master Chubb entered the scene.

Halt stared, astonished, at the empty space where the boy had been moments ago. Chubb shuffled about, grabbing this and that before he noticed the windowsill.

"What? Another one? Ugh, that thief again! The third time this month! When I find him…" He roared, fussing over the remaining pies. He began to pick them up and move them, but just as he was about to, a voice called from the other side of the kitchen.

"Master Chubb?"

"What?" He snapped.

"The Baron is asking to see you about his dinner."

"Oooh…" Chubb's face was red with anger, but he forced the rage down, if only for the moment. "Alright. Come on, then." He brushed his way right past where Halt remained unseen, towards the door and the Baron's dining hall.

Silence followed. Halt's gaze remained fixed to the window, waiting. He hadn't heard the boy's decent or landing, so he must have-

The thought was interrupted by the boy himself, who, with considerable effort, heaved his slight form up onto the windowsill from where he'd been hanging onto the castle wall. Carefully moving the pies aside, he straddled the sill and selected an apple pie, biting into it with a satisfied look on his face. He swung his legs back and forth in a relaxed way, undaunted by the three-story drop that hung off to one side of him and oblivious to the ranger that lurked on the other. In due time, he finished his treat and swallowed the last bit happily, licking his fingers before wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. After this was done, he glanced casually down the castle wall, waited for a moment, and dropped down the wall past the window with hardly a sound. Halt crossed the floor to peer out the window. He caught the last few meters of the boy's decent, and noted the ease with which he moved. A natural climber, he thought. Quiet, agile, and, as it appeared, a touch mischievous. Halt could just feel the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Impressive.

The smile faded as he glanced back down at the windowsill, the remaining pies illuminated dimly by the failing evening light. There was an alarming lack of blueberry in today's selection. He sniffed in annoyance, and picked out an apple pastry. It would suffice. As he ate, he watched with curiosity as the boy retreated back into the darkened castle courtyard. Impressive, indeed.

* * *

It was hardly light out, and already daily life as Redmont's ranger had taken an interesting turn. Halt had been passing through the castle to the shops to replenish his supply of coffee when a commotion caught his ear. He unobtrusively slipped into the shadows and made his way to the doorway of what he knew to be the schooling wing of the Ward. He was slightly surprised when recognized Master Chubb's voice.

"He's a thief, I tell you! A right law-breaker! Stole half a day's work of pies just last night!"

Halt's eyebrow shot up in recognition, and he tilted his head to peer around the doorframe.

In the middle of the room, Chubb stood indignantly red-faced, his ladle raised threateningly in the air. Before him stood the meek form of the boy from last night, a ward caretaker holding his shoulder tightly as she tried to sort out Chubb's accusations. The boy, Halt noted, had his blank gaze trained carefully on the floorboards.

"I am terribly sorry, master Chubb, if there's been a mistake…" The young caretaker began.

"There's been no mistake! Look here," Chubb cried, yanking at the boy's sleeve, which was stained with a deep purple blotch. Halt pursed his lips. There were certain drawbacks to wiping one's mouth with the back of one's sleeve. "Blueberry!" Chubb continued, pointing to the stain. "And apple, I'd imagine. Stole and ate my pies right under my nose, didn't you, boy?" Chubb yanked on the sleeve, jerking the young man forward slightly. The boy said nothing.

Now convinced, the caretaker looked down sternly at the young ward. "Well, did you take the pies, Will?" She demanded.

The pause that followed was strung with tension. Halt watched the boy with inexplicable interest in what he would say next. Despite the fact that Halt was willing to engage in similarly mischievous activities as this boy, had he been caught, he would never deny it. Rangers were fundamentally honest men, and Halt valued the trait in other people as well. Admittedly, the ranger had felt a certain amount of respect for the boy the night before, but if he failed to tell the truth now, he would lose all respect in Halt's eyes.

The boy took a breath, swallowed, and looked up to both adults before him. "Yes, I did."

Halt barely had time to let out the breath he'd been holding before Master Chubb's ladle-brandishing hand came down with a resounding _crack! _on the ward's crown. The boy let out a small yelp and his hands went up instinctively to rub the now throbbing spot on his head. The caretaker let go of his shoulder, and, having received his punishment, he quickly fled to the ward courtyard, not noticing Halt in the shadows.

"Are you alright, Will?" A tall young girl asked as she rose from a stone bench.

Will rubbed his noggin. "Yeah, I guess." He tried to smile at her.

"You deserve it, thief." Another boy, bigger and taller than Will, but about the same age, approached them.

The girl rolled her eyes at the new arrival. "Oh, lay off it, Horace." She put a slender hand to Will's head. "You shouldn't have done it, Will," She said sternly.

"I know, Alyss."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"Would you listen if I said I was hungry and bored?"

The tall girl shook her head. "Oh, Will, you and your silly climbing is bound to get you in trouble one day. Just don't do it again, alright?" She gently swatted his shoulder and turned to leave.

"Hungry and bored, alright. You sure will be when they ground you to your room and hard rations for a week." Horace taunted again.

Will rounded on him. "Well at least I'll be able to make it a week – you wouldn't be able to make it a day without stuffing your face like the great pig that you are."

"Why, you little…" And indeed, Will _was _little, but he was also agile, and he ducked deftly under Horace's thrown punches before swinging easily up into the great fig tree in the courtyard. The bigger boy tried to follow, but couldn't find a way to clamber his way up past the first few branches. By the time he gave up, Will was high in the light, swaying branches towards the top. "You can stay there all week!" Horace yelled up at his escaped target. "You can cower up there as long as you want, Will No-Name, because they won't come looking for you!" And with that last thrown insult, He turned and stormed away towards the boy's dormitory. Will remained where he was, and made himself comfortable in a fork in the branches.

Briefly, Halt considered how at home he seemed in the swaying heights of the tree. He regarded the boy with a newly founded respect. He would have to keep an eye on this one.

* * *

_Fifteen years later…_

The kitchens of Castle Redmont were dark and abandoned, the last of the kitchen staff having left after dinner was served. The counters were slightly dirty, but the majority of the day's work had been cleaned up by dutiful apprentices long ago. Now, the only thing that spoke to the work of the previous day was a handful of dirty dishes, and a very distinct aroma drifting in on the evening breeze.

Blueberries.

And not just _any _blueberries – these blueberries had been mixed in with sugar and spices and encased in an artfully crafted crust to create a magnificently sweet, delicious pie, which was presently sitting on the windowsill, still cooling from the oven it had been baked in just after dinner.

Halt was an unseen, silent shadow as he crossed the kitchen floor to the window, slinking into a dark corner before he reached forward to claim his prize. He had waiting hours for this, and was fixated completely on the mouth-watering look and smell of it, which was why he nearly jumped out of his skin with surprise when he looked down to see not only his hand, but another hand resting on the pie tin. He quickly followed the wrist and arm up to the owner's face. Beyond the shadows and mottled green-grey cowl, he could just make out the deep brown eyes of his former apprentice, Will.

The younger ranger looked at his former master with stark surprise, but after the reality settled somewhat, he glanced from Halt to the pie that both of them still grasped, and then back at Halt. Not taking his eyes off of Will, Halt tugged the pie from his pupil's grip and took a knife from a nearby counter. He carefully sliced the pie down the middle, selecting one half for himself and giving the other to Will. As he handed him the pastry, an unspoken message passed between them.

_I won't tell if you won't._

And with that, they both bit into their pies. At one point, Halt looked up at Will, and in a single second, a memory flashed vividly before his eyes. In the very room he was standing in, a wiry, inexperienced young boy darted out of shadow snatch up a pie before disappearing over the window. Somewhere in the memory, the same boy admitted his crime in truth and received a painful whack over the head with a ladle. Halt felt the same feeling of respect again, but now, as he recognized it all these years later, he realized that it had developed into something closer to pride. He glanced up at Will, wondering if the other man had somehow noticed the familiarity of the situation as well, but the young ranger was caught up in eating his delicious treat, and didn't notice Halt staring. After he was finished, Will licked his fingers and swiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth. Halt hid a smile. Doubtless, he'd stained his tunic with purple while doing so. It was only after he was finished that Will looked up at Halt. He smiled, nodded in a sort of wordless acknowledgment towards Halt, and silently vaulted over the windowsill. When Halt looked, Will was already gone, lost to the shadows of late evening.

Halt munched on his pie thoughtfully, considering how they'd ended up where they were now all because of one encounter all those years ago. Because whether Will knew it or not, the incident with the pies had been a deciding factor in Halt's initial opinion of the boy, and thus, his selection of Will as his apprentice. He glanced down at his pie, reminiscing on the pleasant taste of it. He then looked out the window once more, where, in the distance, he could see Will mounting Tug to ride back towards his cabin by the woods. Indeed, it was rather strange how so many years of friendship, companionship, and family had been decided all those years ago by Halt's incurable sweet tooth. He watched Will ride until he couldn't see him through the night anymore. Since he'd first seen the boy, Will had become a brilliant ranger, a national hero, and something very close to a son in Halt's heart. He ate the last bit of his pie and dusted the crumbs from his hands. A ranger, a hero, and a son - all for the love of pies.


	6. Sneeze

**6**

**Sneeze**

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**PLEASE READ!**

A/N: This is an experiment, really. I was attempting to tell an entire story with absolutely no description – only dialogue. I hope you can understand it. R&R, please!

* * *

"Will?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I truly am."

"Whatever."

"No, really!"

"Horace?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor. Shut up."

"But I was just apologizing! You can't very well get mad at a fellow for apologizing."

"Actually, I'm quite positive that I can. Now shut up before I go over there and make you shut up."

…

"…Will?"

"What _now?"_

"Well, I was just going to say that you can't really come over to make me shut up, because, well… You're kind of chained to a wall, you see."

"Thank youfor pointing that out, O Wise One – I was beginning to wonder why my ankles and wrists were beginning to swell up. I'm glad I have you here to clear _that _up."

"Listen, I'm sorry, alright? Now… let's just figure out how to get out of here."

"Horace, we're chained to the wall in a dark, locked cell, there are about thirty guards outside in the dungeons and countless more in the castle, we're stuck here without so much as a splinter for weaponry, and last time I checked, linen breeches weren't exactly top-of-the-line armor for would-be escapees."

"Well… I'm sure we can think of _something."_

"Oh really? Well, then, by all means; Enlighten me."

"Well… What would Halt do? Halt could get out of something like this, I'm sure."

"Yes, you're right, actually, he could."

"You see! That's the spirit, now, what would Halt do?"

"Well, first off, he wouldn't be stupid enough to get captured, and with that done, he wouldn't have to bother with all of this dungeon nonsense in the first place!"

"Will, seriously! I said I was sorry!"

"Well 'sorry' doesn't exactly unlock chains and knock out an entire legion, now does it?"

"Oh, come on, Will, they're only doing their job."

"They locked up a king's ranger! And a knight! I never knew an Araluen garrison could be so incompetent."

"Well it's not like they know who we are, exactly. I mean, Crowley did send us on an undercover mission, and, well… He _is _rather good at making undercover identities…"

"So help me, the next time I see that man, I'm going make a pincushion out of him."

"Will! He's your commandant!"

"Oh, you're just full of brilliant revelations today, aren't you? Of course he's my commandant - he has been for the past decade! And the next time I see him, I'll throttle him for all the trouble he's put me through!"

"Well it's not _his _fault we got captured."

"Oh, that's right, isn't it? Hmm… Funny, I somehow recall that the credit for that falls to a certain freelance knight…"

"I'm not a freelance and you know it, _Treaty."_

"Well Crowley and your buckler say otherwise, _Altman."_

"Look, I messed up, alright? Now how are we going to get out of here?"

"…"

"Will?"

"…We wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?"

"…I don't know."

* * *

_Snooooooooooooooore…_

"Ugh…"

_SNOOOOOREEE_

"Horace, you're snoring again."

_SNORE!_

"Horace, wake up!"

_sssnnnnnnnnnooOOOOOOOORRRRRRE!_

"Come on you blubbering buffoon, _wake up!"_

_**SNOOOOOORE!**_

"Horace! Cassandra's been captured by pirates!"

"Hmm? What – 'M awake, I'm awake…"

"Finally."

"What? Ugh, why in the world did you-"

"Shhhh!"

"Did you wake me up just to shush me?"

"Yes."

"But-wha-"

"Quiet! Listen…"

"…What is it?"

"Maybe if you'd be quiet for two seconds, you'd hear it too."

"…"

"…"

"…I don't hear anything."

"You _have _gone deaf, haven't you? They're footsteps."

"…I think I can just hear them. …Who do you think they are?"

"I don't know. There are two sets. One man is rather short. The other is about average height. They're athletic and quick. Warriors, I'd think."

"You can tell all of that just by the sound of their footsteps?"

"Yes. They're coming towards us."

"But how can you tell all of that?"

"Because I'm me."

"Oh yes, that just explains _everything, _doesn't it?"

"Because Halt taught me how."

"…Yes, I suppose that makes more sense. …What do you think they're coming down here for?"

"Well, the possibilities are rather limited."

"Do you think they'll release us?"

"Probably not. Being caught conspiring with a gang of brigands isn't exactly taken lightly – not something you get out of jail for so easily."

"Well, we've been here for five days."

"And? It's no sweat off their backs if we rot away in here for five years."

"So what are they here for?"

"Well, either they're going to bring us to court or the execution block."

"Execution? Pardon me, but I do believe the law states that all criminals must be given a fair, impartial trial before they're sentenced to anything, let alone death!"

"I'm just giving you the possibilities, Horace."

"Are there any more options?"

"Well, it could be some sort of negotiation or interrogation, or maybe-"

"Or maybe it's a couple of old friends coming to rescue the incompetent whippersnappers."

"Crowley!"

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think we're doing here? Rescuing you, as Crowley said."

"Halt! You're here too? Thank God!"

"You know, I really hoped that I'd never have to see my own apprentice locked up in jail. What in the world did you two do?"

"It's all Horace's fault."

"Hey!"

"And how, exactly, is it Horace's fault?"

"He's the one that alerted the guards that we were there."

"I don't follow."

"Well, by this time last week, we had already infiltrated the illegal trade gang like you said, Crowley, and had worked our way up to meet the boss. In effect, we were nearly done with the entire mission, but just as we were on our way to headquarters, us and about four others of the gang were stopped by guards on a back road. We all hid and would have made it out without being seen, if Horace here hadn't ruined the entire thing by alerting the guards to our position. They captured us and threw us in here."

"And how, exactly, did you alert the guards, Horace?"

"Well, that's quite an interesting story, you see. There was this really annoying breeze that night and-"

"He sneezed."

"Will!"

"You did _what?"_

"He sneezed. Quite loudly, actually."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"There's nothing _to _finish! You sneezed as loud as an elephant and they heard you – so here we are, stuck in some dark, dank cell, all because of your trumpeting…"

"You don't even know what an elephant sounds like, Will! We've had this conversation before. A fellow can't help it if he sneezes! And… Crowley, stop laughing!"

"You mean to tell me… _giggle _…That you compromised your entire mission… _chuckle _…By… Sneezing?"

"Yes."

"No!"

"He means yes. He's just in denial."

"Okay, maybe I did… Just a little bit."

"A little? We're in _prison, _you oaf!"

"Well I couldn't have very well known that they'd throw us in prison!"

"Horace, you serve in the _Royal Guard. _You, of all people, should know better."

"He's got a point there, you know."

"Halt, you're not helping."

"I wasn't trying to."

"Whatever. Could you two just please get us out of here? I'm starving."

"It's always the food with you, isn't?"

"Oh, shut up, Will."

"Halt, would you mind going to find the warden and fetching the keys? I'll stay here and make sure they don't tear each other to pieces. The king is going to _love _your report on this, boys. He may just keep a copy and refer back to it anytime he needs a good laugh."

"Careful, Crowley, Will promised to make a pincushion out of you earlier."

"Ha! I'd like to see him try. I'll have you off to the most boring, miserable, god-forsaken fief imaginable before you can string that stick of yours, Will."

"I'd like to point out that I don't even have a stick to string while I'm in here; much less a shirt on my back. Can we please leave, now? My wrists hurt from these stupid chains."

"Oh, stop whining; I've got the keys here."

"Thanks, Halt."

"You can thank me by going and dousing yourselves in the nearest river. The two of you smell like you swam through the sewer."

"Well, actually…"

"No, no, I don't want to hear it. Just… Go clean up. I'll have your weapons and things when you're through."

* * *

_Snicker…_

_PAH!_

_...snorffle…_

_SNORT._

_Mmfff…PHAHAHAHA!_

"Daddy, what in the world are you laughing about?"

_BAHAAA! Oooh… snort_

"Daddy!"

"Haha… Wh- _giggle_ –what is it?"

"What are you laughing about?"

"Oh... Cassie, come read this."

…

"…He blew the entire mission by _sneezing?"_

...

_PAHAHAHAA!_

_

* * *

_

"Will?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did I let you write that report?"

"Well I couldn't have you writing it. You may have sneezed on it and ruined the whole thing."

…

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not while I'm still alive."

"Ughh..."

_The End_


	7. A Mother's Duty

**7**

**A Mother's Duty**

**

* * *

**

"Will!" Lady Pauline tried not to act too astonished, "What on earth are you wearing?"

Will glanced innocently down at his green and grey attire. "Well… Clothes, of course. And my cloak."

"No, I meant, what are you- But, what's that on your chin?"

Will frowned. "My chin? I'm sorry Lady Pauline, I'm not sure what you're talking about." He looked uncomfortable.

Pauline sighed. "Oh, never mind. Where did Halt go?"

"He said he was headed to see the Baron, Lady Pauline. Just left a moment ago."

"Alright. Thank you, Will." She left without further comment, but sent a few skeptic glances back at the young ranger's apprentice as she walked away. She soon came upon Halt, and instead of greeting him or addressing the matters she had come to see him about, she said what was presently on your mind.

"Halt, how on earth could you let your apprentice out into public, dressed as he is? Much less in the castle!"

Halt turned toward her, not at all surprised by her sudden arrival, but rather taken aback by her unusual question.

"What on earth do you mean, 'dressed as he is'?"

"Halt, those clothes have to be three sizes too small, and that cloak is much too short on him! Are rangers so poor that they can't pay for properly tailored clothing?"

Halt shrugged. "Well, there is coffee that has to be bought. The stuff's not cheap, you know."

She glared at him

Halt sighed. "Honestly, Pauline, I hadn't noticed. He didn't complain, so I didn't think he was uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable! Halt, the boy would sooner be strangled by his own collar than complain to you about his clothes. Of course he's uncomfortable – he can hardly move in that shirt of his! And to make matters worse, you've gone and let his hair grow completely out of hand – and a beard, too!"

"What?" Halt was genuinely surprised. "That's preposterous. Will doesn't have a beard. I think I would have noticed."

"Well, he'll have one soon if he doesn't shave the stubble off his cheeks. It's as dark as that brown mop he calls hair. You know Halt, with the way you've been neglecting your apprentice's hygiene and welfare, sooner or later, he'll turn out looking just like you."

Halt chose to ignore the insult and instead countered against her logic.

"Well, it's not called 'personal hygiene' for nothing – I'm not responsible for Will's shaving routine, or his choice in dress."

"Halt," Pauline said slowly, "Do you honestly think the boy knows how to shave? He's sixteen – he's never picked up a razor in his life. And as for clothes, how much do you think Ranger apprentices get paid?"

Halt paused, looking pensive. He couldn't say anything to that, so he studiously trained his eyes away from her face, walking along with a mustered air of dignity.

"Ugh!" Pauline gave vent to a rare show of frustration. "Men! So thoughtless. I'll take the boy out to the shops later and pick him up some new clothes, and order him a new cloak. I'll need your coinpurse."

Begrudgingly, Halt produced the jingling sack and handed it to her with a sigh.

She took it. "And I'll also see if Horace can't teach his friend how to shave properly without cutting himself to bits."

Halt started to protest, but she intercepted whatever he was going to say.

"Halt, you aren't one to teach that particular skill; he needs to learn how to use a razor, not a saxe knife."

And again, Halt couldn't say anything to that.

She shook her head at him. "I'll have him back before dinner."

* * *

When Will walked back in the door that evening, He was wearing a fashionably loose shirt, nicely fitting boots, and a new leather jerkin. All were clean and new, all in muted tones of green, grey and brown. His hair was freshly cut and cleaned, though it had stayed resolutely untidy, and his cheeks were now clean-shaven, with a few cleverly disguised nicks from the razor. He carried a satchel with him bulging with extra sets of clothes.

Looking at him now, Halt had to admit that he looked a great deal more comfortable than he had before, and that his face looked a little less dark after he'd shaved.

Honestly, Halt was very glad that he hadn't been the one carting Will all over the Redmont markets looking for clothing. Will was very easy to please and lived a naturally minimalistic lifestyle, but still – dragging an apprentice to and fro under the cover of the ever-distinguishing ranger cloaks all over the open spaces of the marketplace to be ogled at and fretted over was a large source of annoyance for Halt. It was a huge relief to have it over and done with relatively little pain involved.

Halt made a mental note to thank Pauline later.

* * *

A few nights later, when Halt next went up to Castle Redmont, he got his opportunity as he and Pauline were convening to walk to the Baron's office with their respective reports. As they walked through the dusk, Halt awkwardly cleared his throat next to her, (Pauline was, after all, the only human being on the face of the earth whose very presence could make him flustered) and turned slightly towards her as they walked.

"Thank you, by the way." He said.

Pauline looked confused. "Whatever for?"

"For taking Will to get new clothes and all… The other day. I don't remember if I got to thank you for that." He explained.

She smiled sweetly at him. "No, you didn't."

"Oh. Well, um… I am now. Thanks." He looked away in an almost shy manner.

She smiled more broadly. "Oh, that's very sweet of you, Halt. You're welcome." And then she leaned in to give him a kind peck on the cheek. Despite his age, experience, wisdom and very, decidedly secure dignity, Halt couldn't help it when he blushed scarlet.

Pauline only smiled at him some more when she saw it. "I suppose I did it because I felt sorry for the boy. I mean, he's already got a father, it seems, but sometimes, he needs a mother to look after him." She winked at Halt.

Halt just shook his head. "You know very well that I'm not his father, and you're definitely not his mother."

"He thinks of you that way. He admires your very much, you know. As for me being his mother, well, I told him that that's what I'd be for him, if he needed it."

"And I suppose he was alright with that?"

"Of course he was. He quite liked the idea. In fact, I seem to remember that he said you and I made a rather lovely couple."

The statement stopped Halt in his tracks, and he opened his mouth several times in an attempt to answer, but after a while, he gave up. After he thought about it, he found he couldn't say anything to that, either.


End file.
